


Special Circumstances Apply

by veronamay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas, F/M, First Time, Guitars, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-11
Updated: 2007-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen, Jared, and a guitar lesson.  Etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://estrella30.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://estrella30.livejournal.com/)**estrella30** asked for schmoopy Christmas porn, and I had a couple of spare hours up my sleeve tonight. Voila. Hope you like it, nan. MWAH!

It's not Jensen's fault. He firmly believes that. He's been brainwashed, is the thing. Because it's almost Christmas and everyone's happy and the world's full of warm fuzzies and Jared, man, Jared's just so. fucking. irresistible, Jensen could almost cry.

He doesn't mean to do anything. Just because he's been walking around for the past couple of ( _months_ ) weeks wanting to do stupid things like touch Jared's chest or hug him or bury his hands wrist-deep in his hair (and other things that he doesn't let himself consider in the light of their normal workday) – that's something Jensen's been keeping to himself. But he's learning now that these fancies have a way of spilling over into reality if you ignore them for too long.

They're at Jensen's place at the time in question. Jared's been at him for weeks about guitar lessons, and no matter how many times Jensen tells him he's not that good, Jared doesn't listen, thinks he's Eddie Van Halen or Eric Clapton or something. Jared turns those big green (wicked, oh so wicked) eyes on him and begs. _Begs_ , for fuck's sake. How the hell is he meant to resist that?

So this is how he finds himself sitting on his living room floor in LA, not long after Thanksgiving, legs crossed with his guitar across his lap. Jared's sitting opposite, mirroring his pose, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he frowns in concentration.

Jensen is not concentrating. Jensen is having a fuckload of trouble keeping his mind on what they're supposed to be doing (Jared wants to learn how to play 'Nothing Else Matters', of all things) because, well. Jared. Jared looks great. That is, Jared _always_ looks great, but tonight he looks _incredible_. Jensen's got the lights dimmed a bit, which has absolutely nothing to do with any kind of romantic mood setting, but is just easier on his eyestrain, thank you very much. And Jared's been to the beach or something, because his skin is fucking _glowing_ against his white shirt. He's been taking notes from the wardrobe girls, too, because those jeans are a good enough fit that Jensen actually felt his knees weaken when he answered the door earlier. So, yeah – a shirt and jeans, nothing special – except on Jared, it is. It's very special. And Jensen's so caught up in that thought and the growing want it engenders that he doesn't realise Jared's noticed his distraction until he waves a hand in front of Jensen's face.

"Hey, you still awake?" Jared grins at him, lazy and relaxed. "I'm not boring you, am I?"

There's an open bottle of shiraz on the coffee table beside them. Jensen refills his glass and takes a swallow, feeling his face go hot with embarrassment.

"Sorry," he blurts out. "I just – you look really hot, is all."

He instantly wants to punch himself in the face. Hard.

"Me? Nah, I'm fine. It's not that warm in here." Jared tips his head to the side, the better for Jensen to be fascinated by his heavy, silky fall of hair. "You okay?"

Jensen now wants to punch Jared. He represses the urge – he's getting good at that – and nods.

"Where were we?"

"You were showing me that D chord, and I was messing it up spectacularly." Jared shakes his head. "I dunno what's the matter. I just can't make my fingers go where they should."

 _Jesus Christ_. Jensen wishes his libido would pipe the hell down. He can't take all this stress. Jared doesn't mean these things the way Jensen hears them. He's positive of that.

"Could you maybe come here and kind of ... show me? From this perspective? It might help."

Jensen nearly bites through his tongue. He stares at Jared, who looks as wide-eyed and innocent as a kitten and twice as harmless, and he honestly can't tell if the vibe he's getting is all in his head. He is no longer quite so positive.

He fakes a long-suffering sigh, grateful when his breathing stays steady, and lays his guitar aside.

"You are the most uncoordinated man on the planet," Jensen mutters, knee-walking over to sit behind Jared. He ignores the wild quivering in his stomach and sits with his legs spread wide, knees bracketing Jared's hips, and orders himself not to get any ideas. He gingerly puts his arms around Jared's waist to grab the guitar and peers over the top of one muscular Padalecki shoulder.

Then Jensen realises two things in quick succession.

Fact #1: Jared doesn't just look incredible; he also smells fucking _amazing_. Like sweet spices and orange and vanilla, and somehow also like cookies, which Jensen's nose translates into _Christmas pudding_ and, therefore, _incredibly_ appetising.

Fact #2: Jensen's willpower is not equipped to deal with Fact #1.

Conclusion: Jensen is very, very fucked.

"New cologne?" he manages after a moment. Jared nods, his hair brushing against Jensen's ear.

"Shower gel, I forget what it's called but it's really nice. Makes me think of gingerbread," and his stomach rumbles as if on cue. "Shut up," Jared says to it, completely unselfconsciously, and Jensen almost mauls him right then. He cannot deal with a Jared who is this close and this hot and this adorable, and who apparently does not care that he's more or less in a clinch with another guy with only the excuse of a guitar to give them straight credibility. He needs to extricate himself from this situation before he does something stupid.

"Jensen? You still with me?" Jared prompts, and Jensen can all but feel his voice resonating from his chest, they're that close. He shuts his eyes briefly and prays for strength.

"Why don't we take—" _a break_ , he means to say, only when he speaks Jared turns his head, and Jensen ends up pretty much nuzzling into Jared's (perfect, and _ohsoclose_ ) neck, and that smell rises up around them both, tinged with the warmth of their bodies, and Jensen's not sure but he suspects he might have just let out a whimper.

Jared goes still – really, totally still, not even breathing. Jensen stares at the whorls of his ear for a moment, knowing he's just crossed a line, not sure what's going to happen next or even what he _wants_ to happen. Well, no, he knows what he wants to happen but that's about as likely as Kripke deciding to incorporate the music of American Idol winners into the show. No way is Jared going to suddenly opt for 'his and his' matching towel sets and a civil ceremony. No way in hell. Assuming he's right, all he can do is wait for Jared's reaction and deal with it. Jared's a decent guy; it'll be okay. But he's already mourning the loss of some of their ease together, because who isn't a little tense around someone who's ( _in love_ ) crushing on them?

Steeling himself, Jensen takes a breath and looks Jared square in the face. He doesn't bother to hide what he's thinking; he lets it all show, because now that it's out there he sees no point in subterfuge. Besides, it's Christmas. If he's not entitled to a little hope right now, then when?

Jared keeps looking at him for the longest time, until Jensen wants to say something, do something, to distract him. He has no idea what's going through Jared's mind, and his expression isn't giving any clues away. Jensen feels his heart thumping heavy in his chest, sees Jared's pulse strong and steady in his throat, and he's about to chicken out and pull away and pretend that nothing's happened and then.

Then Jared moves, _finally_ , and it's just a small thing, turning his head back to face straight ahead and shifting his body ever so slightly – but when he's done, Jensen's chin is resting on Jared's shoulder, and Jared's leaning back against his chest, and their fingers are entwined on the frets and strings of Jared's guitar.

"So," Jared says, and his voice sounds perfectly normal, "D chord?"

Jensen can't process the words for a moment; he's trying to fight an erection (because, hello – not a terribly romantic way to start things off, poking a hole in Jared's lower back with his downstairs brain) and trying not to start whooping like a maniac, and also trying not to ask Jared if he really means what Jensen thinks he means with the leaning and the hands – and then he nearly dislocates his neck trying to see Jared's face, and Jared's looking at him sideways and smiling, and oh man, that is just _it_.

" _Fuck_ the fucking D chord," he growls, and Jared's grin widens.

Then he's leaning in and Jared's twisting around and they're kissing, finally, after God knows how many weeks and hours of lost sleep and wishful thinking and feeling like a complete idiot about this, and Jensen's pretty sure he'd be perfectly happy to never move again. He could just sit here and kiss Jared forever, learning his way around that clever, pretty mouth, breathing in that scent and gripping handfuls of Jared's shirt to keep him close. Not that Jared's going anywhere; he's shifting around sideways so he can take Jensen's face in both hands and angle it where he wants it, and that's so hot Jensen doesn't even think about pretending to fight. He just lets Jared pull him half into his lap and nearly bend him back over his fucking _arm_ , like those chicks on the covers of the bodice-rippers his mom reads, and he doesn't care if it makes him the girl because it feels _awesome_ , and he's man enough to admit it. Besides which – Jared's a good kisser. Like, really good. Good enough to make Jensen lightheaded in the first couple of minutes, and get him hard enough to pound nails with his cock (and normally that'd sound painful, and terribly cliché, but right now it seems pretty reasonable, given the state of said cock, being Jensen's, although he's so turned on he's surprised he can remember his own name at all).

It hits him right about then that he'd really like to suck Jared off. That's No. 2 on his current jerk-off fantasy list, and – well, now seems like a good time, right? Especially when his mouth starts watering at the bare thought of it. Jared won't stop kissing him, though, and Jensen has to push on his chest to get his attention.

"What?" Jared's all flushed and mussed and completely gorgeous, mouth wet and shiny, eyes wide. Jensen almost loses track of what he wants for a second, because that is seriously the best thing he's ever seen. Ever. Jared in heat is his new favourite image.

"Cock," he says suddenly, and bam! the plan is back on track in his head, and he slides his hand down to the button on Jared's jeans.

"Ye-es, that's a cock, all right." Jared smiles, and Jensen leans up to steal a hard-and-fast kiss, his turn to make Jared moan and open his mouth wider. When Jensen lets him back up for air, Jared gasps, "What're you gonna do with it?"

"Suck it," Jensen announces, and maybe it's the wine and maybe it's sheer exhilaration, but he feels bold enough to actually do it even though he's never been this close to another guy's cock before. But it's Jared, so it's okay, in fact it's completely perfect, so Jensen doesn't waste any more time on thinking and just dives for Jared's zipper.

Jared, being a guy, doesn't try to talk him out of it: he breathes, "Holy shit, Jen," and leans back on his elbows, and his heavy-lidded eyes watch every move Jensen makes. Jensen feels like a porn star as he slides the tab of the zipper down and flicks the button open with his thumb, and then he's staring at Jared's cock between the folds of denim (because _of course_ Jared went commando; this whole evening has been a plot to kill his higher brain functions, Jensen's sure of it) and, wow. Okay. Huh.

That's ... a big cock, is what that is right there. And Jensen's mouth, while not small, is probably not going to be able to do this job. Still, he wants to, and Jared is clearly not going to stop him, and really – it's kind of pretty, that cock. It's pink, and heavy in his hand, and it's soft and hard at the same time, and Jared apparently really likes it when Jensen slides his finger along the slit, so just imagine what his _tongue_ could do.

Jensen stops imagining then and starts doing it, puts his head down and licks his lips and takes the head of Jared's cock in his mouth. Licks it, around and over and around again. Sucks a little, sliding up along the length until he's at a comfortable depth, and he can wrap his hand around the rest of the shaft and have some control. And then he curls his tongue around and beneath, and tightens his mouth, and sucks until his cheeks feel hollow. Relaxes. Sucks again. Relaxes. Slow, like he's got all day, and Jared _really_ likes that because he starts to moan and he falls back to lie flat on the floor and his hands find Jensen's head and push. It's kind of hard to grin around a mouthful of cock, but Jensen manages it, and finds a better kneeling position so he can do this properly. Then he begins the suck-relax-lick routine in earnest, jacking his hand over the spit-slick part of Jared's cock that he's not sucking, slipping down to investigate his balls and up to rub circles on his belly. That sweet-spicy smell is still all around, getting into Jensen's head and revving him up even further; he shifts again to kneel over Jared's legs, his free hand going to his own jeans and pulling his cock out. He gets in a few good strokes, twisting hard over the end how he likes it, and then Jared's voice brings him up short.

"Don't – do that – yet," he pants, and Jensen's surprised enough to let Jared's cock slip out of his mouth.

"Do what?" he asks, wiping his mouth, still slowly jacking them both off.

"Don't come until—" Jared grits his teeth and arches up as Jensen leans back in and licks along the slit of his cock, collecting the pre-come that glistens there. "I want to. Do that. Want to watch you."

Jensen shudders, and lets his hand fall away from his cock. He's jittery with need, wants to come, wants to keep going all night, and Jared's not making things easier with his hotness and his perfection and his asking for Jensen to hold off until he can make him come. But Jensen wants that too, so he nods and slides both hands up Jared's chest, toying with his nipples, sliding one back down to take hold of his cock while he starts to suck again. It's easier now, he kind of knows what he's doing, so he starts to employ little flicks of his tongue when he's pulling back, and that riles Jared right up and gets his stomach muscles so tense Jensen knows he's close to coming. He pulls back until he has just the head in his mouth, sucking softly at the tip, and then he sucks, strong pressure and stroking him double-time, and bingo – Jared yells and his hips snap up and then he's coming, and Jensen means to pull away but he isn't quick enough, so he ends up wearing Jared's come across half of his face. Really, it's not so bad – he's eaten worse and paid for it. And the magical fact that this is _Jared_ makes Jensen not much care, because Jared looks replete and satisfied and he's trying to pull Jensen up to kiss him, so Jensen guesses he doesn't mind too much either.

"Hottest." Kiss. "Fucking." Kiss. "Thing." Kiss. "Ever." Jared punctuates the last word with a tongue-thrusting, knee-weakening pillage of Jensen's mouth, ignoring his spunk everywhere and covering Jensen's cock with what feels like the biggest, warmest hand in all of creation. "I'm going to make you come like a steam train, and then I'm going to kill you for taking so long, and then I'm going to fuck you through the floor," he breathes in Jensen's ear, already finding a rhythm that drives Jensen half-mad within a few seconds. "Okay?"

"O-okay," Jensen stutters, completely unaware of what he's agreeing to, willing to go along with anything as long as Jared never stops doing _that_ \- that stroking-twisting-pulling thing, and then he does stop for a moment but it's only to get his hand slick with spit and come, and then he's stroking-twisting-pulling again and Jensen really can't take this. Not after so long thinking about it. He closes his eyes to block out Jared's gaze, but that just makes it worse because now he can feel everything so much clearer, and it's kind of an embarrassingly short time before he's clutching Jared's shoulder and biting his lip and coming in a series of short pulses that stop his breath with their intensity, the pleasure sharp and deep and almost painful. He shivers through the aftershocks with Jared's hands rubbing up and down his back, and collapses onto his chest to try and recover.

They're silent for a while, getting their breath back, and for Jensen at least, trying to realign their relationship in his head. He has no idea what happens now.

"Don't think," Jared murmurs, and Jensen looks up at him, puzzled.

"Huh?"

"You're thinking." Jared runs a finger over his temple. "Don't think. Just lie here with me for a while. Everything else can wait."

Jensen blinks, thinks about that, and nods.

"All right," he says, and puts his head back on Jared's chest.

It's totally not his fault, though. Not even a little bit.

END


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timestamp, set one month later.

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 2006  
11.55pm

Jensen wove through the crowd of people in Mikey's living room, two sweating beers in each hand. It was below freezing outside, but the crush of humanity was so oppressive he could feel his shirt sticking to his back. He smiled and said a word or two to the people still sober enough to recognise him, but didn't stop to chat.

On TV, Dick Clark was defying natural history by a) remaining alive and b) being orange. Jensen cast a wary glance at the scene in Times Square and shuddered. Vancouver might not be his ideal venue for this night, but there were worse places to be.

He sidled into the hallway and sighed as the air resumed a more normal molecular structure. The dull roar of conversation dropped away the further he went, until it was barely a hum in the background and Jensen was standing in front of Mikey's game room. He kicked the door a couple of times in staccato rhythm and heard the lock click.

Jared opened the door and pulled him in by the collar, checking the hall with a narrow-eyed glare that made Jensen want to laugh.

"Were you followed?" Jared demanded as Jensen dropped the beers on the coffee table and sank onto the couch.

"Dude. Chill." Jensen waved a hand. "I think we're the only two people here who're even _remotely_ sober anymore. Nobody's gonna come looking to kick us out of here so they can fail miserably at Guitar Hero."

"Good, 'cause you really don't need any help with that." Jared flopped down beside him and grabbed a beer.

"Bite me," Jensen said, and yelped when Jared leaned over and nipped his collarbone. "Ow! Dude!"

"You said it," Jared said with a shrug, grinning. Jensen shoved at Jared's shoulder and popped the top off his beer.

"Ought to get you neutered," he muttered around the neck of the bottle.

"Aw, you don't mean that," Jared said, swinging around to put his legs across Jensen's lap. "Who else is gonna hump your leg in public?"

" _Nobody_ ," Jensen said wistfully.

"Shut up, you love it."

"Hmph."

They drank in silence for a moment, the sound muted on the PS2. Jensen's free arm was slung over Jared's legs, thumb idly rubbing the inner seam of his jeans at the knee.

"You call Sandy yet?" Jensen asked after a minute, trying to keep his voice even. Jared slanted a knowing glance at him.

"Yup. She's at a party in the Hills somewhere with Chad. Having a good time, from the sound of it." He didn't sound bothered. Jensen shifted uncomfortably.

"Hm." He drank more beer, wishing he hadn't asked, guiltily glad he had. It wasn't exactly the plan, celebrating New Year's Eve in Canada, but their flights to LA had been snowed in and they'd been stuck here. Mikey all but dragged them over when he heard, and they'd pretty much bolted from the party when the karaoke started.

Jensen could feel Jared watching him, but he didn't acknowledge the look. He still wasn't comfortable with this, but he didn't have it in him to stop and Jared kept assuring him that Sandy was fine. Rather than dig deeper, Jensen had decided to let things ride. Just once, he wanted to take something at face value. It wasn't hard to do that with Jared. He was complex, but he wasn't a mystery. That went a long way toward easing Jensen's conscience.

"Hey." Jared reached out and nudged him. "Look at the time."

Jensen looked at his watch. It was 12:02am. He met Jared's eyes, warm-green and open.

"Happy New Year, Jensen."

"You too," Jensen managed, and then Jared was pulling him in and they were kissing. It was one of Jared's special talents, and Jensen appreciated it at every opportunity. He leaned in for more, hand on Jared's cheek, and smelled that spicy-orange-vanilla-cookies scent that never failed to rouse him. Jared's hand slipped around the back of Jensen's neck, his tongue doing things that made Jensen's toes curl. When they broke apart for air, he was panting.

Jensen let his forehead rest on Jared's shoulder, eyes closed, not thinking. There'd be plenty of time for that tomorrow, and all the days after. For now, he was learning to follow Jared's lead, live in the moment, take things as they came. If that meant staying here like this until Mike kicked them out in the morning—well, that was fine with him.


End file.
